Wrong Agenda

I Brought the Wrong Agenda. I Brought It Emotionally.

Today at work, I did that thing, a small insignificant thing, that sent me spiralling!

I showed up to a meeting, confidently armed with the wrong agenda. Not “slightly off” - wrong. Completely, spectacularly wrong. Like turning up to yoga with a tennis racket.

Everyone was polite. No one gasped.

And yet, the real meeting didn’t happen in that room, it happened inside my head, on a loop, for the rest of the day.

First came the instant replay.Then the slow-motion replay. Then the director’s cut with added dialogue like:

• “How did you not check?”

• “Everyone noticed.”

• “This will definitely be remembered forever.”

  
  

By the end of the day, I had mentally resigned and become a cautionary tale told to new starters.

And then came the anger, not at the situation, not even at the agenda, but at myself. Because why can’t I just let it go like a normal person? Why does my brain insist on rummaging through one awkward moment like a fox in a bin at 2am?

By evening, I was still mad. Not the loud kind. The simmering, silent, teeth-brushed-too-hard kind.

Here’s the thing though, if someone else had done this, if you had, I would have thought:“Oh wow, easy mistake. Anyway…”

I would not have replayed it. I would not have judged your entire competence on one calendar error. I would not have taken it to bed with me like an unwanted bedtime story.

But when it’s me? The rules are different.

I ponder, is zoloft the answer, would it silence the noise? I have not started yet. It is tucked away in the bathroom cabinet - ready for emergency use.

So tonight, instead of re-running the meeting for the 47th time, I’m trying to let go. But it is so hard. I am trying to accept it for what it is, a small human slip. No moral failing. No character flaw. No lifelong consequences.

Just a wrong agenda and a brain that needs reminding it doesn’t need to flog itself to learn a lesson.

Tomorrow, I’ll bring the right one. And hopefully, leave today where it belongs.

In the past. Not in my head.